


The Rules of Royalty

by Toryb



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, But also, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Lord!Jughead, Popular demand says this is multichapter, Princess!Betty, Varchie getting married, Well Lord and Princess, add gags as it comes up, glimpses of dark!jug, prince and princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: About Princess Elizabeth and her impending arranged marriage to Lord Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, a prince in his own right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I made my friend promise this would only be a oneshot, but I had A LOT of fun writing it. So if people like it enough I might just turn it into a multichapter fic. But we will see. Leave Kudos or comments if you liked and let me know what you think/if you want more!

As Princess of the North, there were certain rules Elizabeth Cooper knew she had to live by. One, she must always smile in public. To a royal public opinion was key. Two, always pay close attention to your studies. History, etiquette, dance, conversation, Queen Alice expected perfection in them all despite Elizabeth being the second of her children and far from the crown. Three, likely the most important of them all was to always, always mind her mother.

Only right now, she did not want to. Right now, the princess wanted to throw herself from the carriage and run into the forest, spending the rest of her days as a haggard old hermit with nothing but forest friends. Practically, Elizabeth knew she would either be found immediately or starve to death as a vindictive punishment from her mother.

Besides that, Lady Veronica and Prince Archie would be disappointed by her lack of appearance at their engagement ball. Not to mention she would be meeting her own fiancé there tonight.

Lord Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third. That was his name. When Alice had informed her of the arrangement, only days before they were set to go South to Archibald’s ball, she had memories of a black-haired little boy who would always pull her hair and blame the Prince. During the rare visits she was allowed to come with parents and elder sister Polly, the three of them spent many nights in the gardens together, hiding from the guards and playing silly tricks on the cooks. Perhaps she would have even called them friends.

But not now. Now the name brought venom to her tongue. Made her stomach churn.

No doubt he was simply title chasing. There was gossip in the court about the Jones’ falling social status. His father was losing business, forcing him into less savory contracts. However Lord Jones had managed to convince her parents that his son was marriage material for a Princess, she was unsure.

It had always been Betty’s wildest fantasies to be married to a Prince. Specifically a prince with flame red hair who never answered to his full name. Yes, Crown Prince Archibald Andrews had won her heart from the young age of four years old. It had made sense growing up, that the two kingdoms would seek a unity of this kind. Polly was going to take over the throne, so Betty had no obligations to stay within the land. It would keep the peace for generations. Everything made sense. Until the night of her coming of age ball.

They were grand events in the North. Her mother had spent untold amounts of money on arranging the special day for her youngest. There were roses in every color, a new silk dress, and the finest diamonds hanging from her ears. She had heard whispers from the maids that tonight the Prince was going to propose, right after the ceremony with the whole kingdom watching. Perfection, it would have been called.

That did not happen. What did happen was Archie tripping over the dress of a young Lady named Veronica Lodge and near instantly falling head over heels. She had nursed the bump on his head practically all night, and the dance they shared at midnight was enough to seal the deal. In a whirlwind of passion, he dropped to his knee and begged the Lodge girl to come with him back home and be his wife.

Betty had been devastated, but she plastered on a brilliant smile none the less and ran swiftly to congratulate her friends. Rule number one: always smile in public. After everyone had finally gone home, she spent the night crying in her sister’s arms. She never spoke about that heartbreak again and two years had healed most wounds and dampened a few grudges. Resentment was for the poor, Alice had said, and they were far above that.

Veronica had needed the support. It seemed, surprisingly, that her parents were not too fond of the leader of a foreign land stealing their daughter in the middle of a ball. The wedding had been postponed numerous times already and the kingdom had begun to grow weary that a union was coming at all. At long last the received the invitation to the official engagement ball to be held at the Southern Palace on the eve of their wedding.

She was dressed exquisitely for the night. A princess would have no less than the very best. Pale pink fabric with golden stitches and hair braided so intricately it had begun to pull uncomfortably at her scalp, Alice was not only attempting to make a statement to the courts about her daughter but also to her betrothed.

In truth, it had been as many years since Archie’s impulsive engagement as she had seen Forsythe. Not that he would tolerate her calling that. Even in youth, he had the strangest nickname. Jughead. Even now she could not help but smile at the silliness of a name like that. She wondered if he still used it and how else age had changed him. Would he be tall like his father? Have a weeping kind of beauty like his mother? Would he be handsome?

Betty pushed that thought far, far to the back of her mind. The last thing she wanted was to think he was handsome. No, she wanted to be furious. Furious that she was getting married for the political game and not love. Furious that there had been no warning of the plan until she had no choice but to accept.  
She would play nice in the public eye, act the charmed fiancee. But deep in her heart, she knew she could never love him. Not someone from such a dark, greedy, corrupted family.

Her arrival to the ball was announced with as much fanfare was she expected. She searched the room for familiar faces, finally spotted the familiar glimmer of flame amongst the crowd. Beside him was a lithe figure, watching the crowd with a scrutinizing gaze. For a moment, the breath left her body and their eyes met.

The dark figure pulled himself from the wall and slowly walked towards her. Every step reverberated in her heart. Until, at last, he stood before her.  
Manners did not elude her at this moment, and she outstretched her hand for him to kiss. His fingers were cold, but lips hot against her skin. For a moment the music died and there was nothing but a dull buzz. Then, he pulled back.

“A pleasure to see you again Princess Elizabeth.”

Betty knew by his crooked grin just whom she was speaking to. “And you as well Lord Forsythe.” Her tone was as icy as she could make it, but his simple presence was thawing her. 

“I know you’ve only just arrived, but I would be honored if you would share the first dance of the night with me?”

It would be suicide to refuse. So, with a smile, she replied, “Of course. Shall we?”

The waltz was simple and she would have praised him on his form had his back been a little straighter. Two: Always pay close attention to your studies.

Apparently having decided the night was far, far too silent, Forsythe spoke again, “I hear you had a holiday at the seashore. Did you enjoy it? I remember your affinity for the beach.”

“It was lovely,” was her curt response. Now was not the time for chit chat in her eyes. This was simply for show. Nothing more and nothing less.

This seemed to appease him and the rest of the dance is more silence. Things are starting to wrap up when he speaks again.

“Why are you so hostile to me?” there was a quiet unsureness in his voice that nearly made her break. She forced herself to remember the arrangement she was now in because of his family.

“Because you…you are nothing but a title grabbing bastard,” she kept her voice low as she spoke, venomous, “You’ll marry me and preserve your family’s crest and help business pull back and what do I get from it? Nothing but an unloving, disloyal husband.”

Jughead seemed almost offended, fixing her with a harsh look. “Trust me. The man you’re looking at isn’t title-hungry. But even if it were true, we aren’t the only ones hungry, Princess. Your family wants underground connections. And we can give them. Or my father can. I never got into the family business.”

“You’re a liar!”

On beat, the music ceased and the couples are them bowed to each other. She tried to turn and run, but the grip he had on her was fierce. Slowly, he leaned into her, close enough to whisper. The world would have thought of them as a loving betrothed couple, whispering sweet nothings as quietly as they could in fear of being pulled apart. But the truth was much more sinister.

“Listen, Elizabeth. I am a great many things but a liar is not one of them. I would stay more aware of your surroundings from now on.”

Had it not been from him, the words would have carried the weight of a threat. Instead, they served as a warning. Of what, she could not be sure.

He had retreated into the crowd as quickly as he had come, dancing in the shadows like some sort of fae creature. There was a terrifying beauty in the way he moved. It left Betty’s heart unable to stop beating.

“Betty, dear,” her mother’s voice broke her from her trance, taking her arm and pulling her from the dancing floor. “Don’t you think you ought to go speak with your betrothed a bit more. After tomorrow’s wedding, he will be joining us in our home in preparation for yours.”

“I…yes mother,” Betty bowed quickly and scurried off.

Three: always, always obey your mother. As she moved quickly towards Veronica, seated at the head of a long table surrounded by the gossiping, giggling girls of the court, she decided to break the rules just this once.

She had said he was not a prince, but this was not true. He was. Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third was the Prince of Darkness, the underground. What had her family tangled itself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so SO much on the massive amount of feedback I got. I am so floored by how many of you liked this and I just had to write the next chapter as quick as I could. I've got some plans i'm already concocting for how i want this to go! Let me know what you think with kudos and comments!

Jughead sat under the willow tree, watching as the castle buzzed around him. It was the day of Prince Archibald and Lady Veronica’s wedding and since dawn there had been no stone unturned by busy hands. The groom himself had made a poor attempt at finding a moment of respite in the gardens, but been quickly found and pulled back into the chaos. During their brief interaction, Archie had brought up the matter of his friends own impending marriage.

“You haven’t spent any time with Elizabeth today,” the ginger remarked, a poor attempt at bringing it into casual conversation.

Truth be told, he hadn’t even seen his betrothed since their altercation last night at the ball. Mentions of his father often got his blood boiling too hot to think straight. The implications had been too much, and far from the truth. She couldn’t hear the underground whispers, nor did she seem to have any desire to. As always, Elizabeth danced far above him, twirling in the clouds while reality slowly suffocated what little light he had left.

It wasn’t fair to blame her for what little knowledge she had. She was a princess after all. And him, simply a lord with a family that kept a catacomb of secrets.

He had been furious when the news had been brought to him. Someone like him had no right to be a prince, even one who would never touch the crown. Their family was failing, a fact that did not escape him. His mother had made a desperate attempt at honorably restoring their name: marrying his younger sister, Forsythia, off to a well to do merchant with a few connections upward, but that was not enough.

Surely, their son, already seventeen years old, and showing little interest in the opposite sex had frustrated them to no end. He was the one meant to carry on not only their blood line, but the family business. A business that left nothing but bitterness on his tongue. Jughead was not foolish enough to think blackmail and spies were not a necessity of the royal game, but he hated it all the same. His heart lied in the arts. After years of attending the theatre with wide blue eyes his parents must have seen his calling. But poet did not come with the same fancy jewels and glowing status that prince did.

No doubt the negotiations had purposefully taken place during his holiday with Archibald in the isles. A month was plenty of time to promise a few forgotten secrets in exchange for the Cooper’s second daughter’s hand in marriage. There had been little to no room for argument once his mother got involved. She had fallen to her knees, tears in her eyes as she begged. His father had gambled nearly all their estate away and this was the only solution they could find. So, begrudgingly, he had helped her rise and promised to be on his best behavior.

“She’s been busy with Veronica, hasn’t she? No doubt the wedding takes precedent over my company,” it was the easiest way to deflect the implications of the question.

The prince did not seem to believe his poorly constructed lie. The grass bent as he sat down next his best friend.

“You could barely make eye contact with each other after the first dance yesterday. Just last year Betty was the only one who could convince you to leave the library to play croquet with us. Something had to have happened. And it’s not just how you’ve been with her it…you’ve seemed so far away lately.”

Jughead offered a wry smile to his companion. “Archie, you of all people should know that marriage changes a man.”

The worry was comforting if nothing else. In truth, he was not used to such weighty expectations on his shoulders. Be a good husband, a good prince, secure the family’s place within the social elite, continue on in the family business: it was all slowly stacking up on his shoulders. Eventually the pressure would crush him. Until then the only option was to grin and bear it.

A long time ago, in his youth, marrying Elizabeth would have been his wildest fantasy coming true. The way her green eyes sparkled in the sun had been the subject of many early poetry attempts. Knowing her strong affections for his friend, his secret was one he planned on taking to his grave. That was until he was forced to pay his sister off with a month’s worth of sweets to keep her from parading the old notebook around for the world to see.

Now the union felt more like an imprisonment. She certainly felt the same way, if her aggressive behavior the night before was of any indication. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her himself. Watching the man she had been chasing after for years be married off to her best friend must be difficult, especially when she was forced to follow around the bride during every preparation.

Almost as if on cue Lady Veronica and Princess Elizabeth entered the gardens. His fiancé looked tired, more run down than even the busiest of days could cause. He was about to speak up and ask how she had slept, but was interrupted.

“There you are! Both of you. Archibald, Forsythe,” Veronica spoke swiftly, sharply. A fine queen she would undoubtedly make. “I need you both to head upstairs and begin changing immediately. The ceremony starts right as sunset and I won’t have my husband be late for his own wedding!”

Elizabeth offered them a sheepish grin in apology before she was being pulled back inside by the bride, who was currently chattering loudly about how the cooks had “absolutely outdone themselves on the size of the cake”.

Jughead glared at his friend, “I blame you for them finding me. I almost escaped her wrath.”

“At least you won’t be married to it.”

The two found themselves in easy conversation with the maids assisting them that day. Both had been with the family for the prince’s entire life and were thus intimately familiar with every quirk and freckle of his body. The suit Veronica had picked for her groom could be described as nearing on gaudy. It was a showboat of wealth, not that Jughead expected any different from the wealthy Lodges. Even if she were not marrying the crowned prince her wedding would have been unnecessarily extravagant.

His mind slowly began to wander. What would his own nuptials be like? Elizabeth was a princess, but she had never been quite the show off her best friend was. He imagined her entirely in white, an elegant lace train flowing behind her. She would be an angelic vision before him. Every step she took closer to him would make his heart race faster and faster until finally he would get the first sweet taste of her lips.

They would be tangled together that night, a mess of sheets and fumbling hands during their consummation. The purity of her white gown would be discarded as she withered beneath him. Just imagining the vulgar gasps coming from her parted lips left him nearly breathless.

“Forsythe,” Archie looked to him, spinning once to show off his princely attire, “How do I look?”

“Like Veronica’s very own white knight. If you don’t enter the room on a noble stead I’m going to be sorely disappointed,” he replied lazily from his position in the armchair.

The ceremony was just as beautiful and over the top as Jughead had expected it to be. The now Princess’ dress took up most of the platform the happy couple stood on, nearly knocking the priest over when she had thrown herself into her husband’s open arms for their first kiss. Once the doves had been released, the reception began.

Given how poorly their last dance encounter went, Jughead decided it best to avoid that if at all possible. Apparently, the newlywed couple did not share this sentiment and soon he found himself waltzing yet again with Princess Elizabeth. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for nearly the entire dance and he began reminiscing about a time when peace and quiet with her in the library was his peak moment of happiness.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was so soft he nearly missed it. “About yesterday. I was unfair to you. The things I said about your family were unforgivable especially…since they will be mine soon. Still, I’m offering my apology in hopes you will take it.”

“I could tell you my affection can only be won from foreign chocolate,” he tried to keep his expression neutral, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, “but what kind of husband would I be if I were to extort you like that?

“Besides,” he continued, “You weren’t completely wrong in your assumptions. Some of the reason for our engagement is because of my family’s…floundering social status.”

Elizabeth shook her head, distracted enough for a moment that she stepped on his foot. He nearly toppled over, but held her close and soon they found themselves trying to stifle giggles on the dance floor. It wasn’t the first time she had trampled on his feet. During a dance lesson when they were twelve the two had been clueless in such a graceful art and spent much of the early classes apologizing over and over for their missteps.

“Juggie,” the affection in her voice combined with the childhood nickname brought a flush to his ears. “Do you…I need to ask. I can’t live pretending my parents are some saints anymore. Mother always said not the question her but I need to know what your family gave ours. You know, don’t you?”

His chest felt tight and for a moment the world deafened around him. Yes, he did know what the Jones’ had used to bargain with the royal family. A secret they wanted so desperately to keep hidden it was worth selling their daughter. But could he bare to bring Betty into that darkness?

The decision was made for him when the music stopped and the dance was through. As was customary, partners were switched and he found himself with the bride in his arms next, asking questions about his engagement so quickly he could hardly keep up with answering them.

“I knew you two would figure things out,” Veronica gushed, “She can’t stop looking at you right now. It’s adorable.”

Jughead knew those eyes. There wasn’t love as she gazed upon him, but instead a burning curiosity that bit deep into his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr! My name is tory-b


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up politically in this chapter and we get a little Bughead romance! I hope you all enjoy. I have the rest of the story planned out now so I hope you're in for a few surprises!
> 
> As always if you like what you read please consider leaving a kudo or a comment, they seriously always make me smile when I get them!

The next morning, before the sun had even broken over the horizon, the princess and her lord were giving their friends heartfelt goodbyes. Veronica promised she would write as often as possible, and whenever they announced their wedding, she would be first in attendance. Even Archie shed a few tears. It was always hard for the four to part from one another, especially when they did not know when they would meet again.

  
Finally, all the carriages were packed and there was nothing more time could be wasted upon. Polly and her husband Jason climbed in with the King and Queen. How convenient that she would be trapped for hours upon hours with her betrothed. No doubt this was punishment for her mother witnessing their little spat at the engagement party.

  
Truth be told, Elizabeth was not unhappy about the arrangement. Last night her inquiries had been cut too short and at last she would be able to corner Jughead and rip from him the knowledge she desperately needed. He had made himself scarce last night, practically disappearing into the darkness whenever she set foot too close. Most of the evening had been spent cursing his talent under her breath as she gracefully tried to answer far too intimate questions being asked by the older Ladies of the Southern Court.

  
The silence that lingered in the carriage at first was far from comfortable. They both knew there was business left to be done, and women of House Cooper never rested until they got their way. It was what made them talented, albeit dogmatic rulers. But where she lunged, a snake would dodge. So Jughead sat, basking in the quiet, until she could take no more of it.

  
“I want to know,” her voice was shaken, barely audible over the sound of wooden wheels meeting cobblestone.

  
When he did not answer, she steeled herself. A princess did not back down. They did not run or quiver. She sat a little taller, raising her head as she spoke again. There was more confidence in her tone. It was not a question, but a demand. “Forsythe. I want to know.”

  
The use of his name startled Jughead. It was rare, especially coming from her. For a moment, he felt like folding. This was a sparring match he would not win. But a challenge never frightened him before and his princess certainly was that.

  
“Want to know what? You’ll have to be more specific than that,” his gaze drifted out the window, watching as the forestry passed by in a haze of green. 

  
The further they ventured North the more elegant the terrain became. Alice ran her kingdom like a well-oiled machine. Not a rock was to be out of place or she would send it off to a beheading. How he had escaped youth in that palace with all his limbs attached was a miracle he was still thankful for.

  
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her stare calculated and calm. For an instant, he swore she was a Queen. The little girl with bright green eyes and pigtails he always pulled was gone. Before him sat the picture of grace, crown placed upon her head in such a way it resembled an angel’s halo.

  
“Tell me what my family did. I need to know. I have to. Besides, we’re going to get married. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”

  
He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came from him. “If you think there are no secrets in marriage you’ve read far too many fairytales, Betty. It’s just another political weapon.”

  
Her collected façade faltered. Green eyes opened and reflected her pain. The heartache the last few days had caused her. “Fine. Then I don’t want any secrets in our marriage. We never had any before so why should it start now? Because we’ve got fancy new titles and a ceremony coming up? We’re still Elizabeth and Forsythe. Why should any of this change that?”

  
She reached out and took his hand. Those familiar alabaster fingers that held tightly to his sleeve when they had gotten lost in the forest during a hunting trip she had insisted on being part of. Maybe he did come from poisoned roots, but she had never seen that in him.

  
During the ball, he had been so shaken. Her unconditional trust and faith in him had meant so much before, and all because of their impending marital status it had crumbled. It felt like a million daggers to his heart. So, in all his infinite wisdom, he had pulled back, bit back in fear of rejection. Maybe, maybe he didn’t have to.

  
“Please Juggie,” Elizabeth continued, squeezing tighter.

  
“Okay,” he took a deep breath and laced their hands together. It was familiar and warm. “Your sister and her husband: their child was conceived out of wedlock.”

  
Her eyes went wide and she leaned in closer. “But that’s impossible! She announced her pregnancy nearly a month after their marriage.”

  
“Think about that marriage. Didn’t it feel rushed? Your mother found out she wasn’t bleeding and had them married practically on the spot. They were already engaged so it could be hidden better, but if the kingdom found out what had happened? Or worse yet, House Blossom? What would they think then? Now doubt the Blossoms would be screaming from ever doorstep that your family didn’t deserve the crown if they couldn’t keep their own Crowned Princess from becoming a harlot.”

  
Harsh, but true, his words brought flashes of memories forward. Polly’s dress had seemed snug on the day of her marriage, and with news of the pregnancy, her mother had been pushing the coronation of the new king and queen back further and further. She stated the stress was far too much for a mother-to-be nearing the baby’s birth.

  
And the Blossoms, they were wolves. If blood could be smelt they would pounce upon it, even if it meant throwing away their own son in the process. To make matters worse, they claimed rights to the crown. It was true their great-great-grandfathers had been brothers, but House Cooper had broken off connections with the Blossoms after a treacherous attempt at the throne. Betty had thought Polly and Jason’s nuptials would have eased some of the tension between the two clans, but it felt some days as if it made it worse.

  
“Not to mention, they hate the soon to be King,” Jughead continued, “I don’t live with you and that much was obvious from the moment you all entered the Southern Palace.”

  
Technically, he did live with them now, but that was unimportant to the point at hand. What was important was that they were both about to enter a dangerous game of chess where they would likely be playing as pawns.

  
“Jason’s going to become King after the baby is born. Mother doesn’t want it. I know she doesn’t, but there’s nothing they can do since Polly’s the crowned Princess. So, they want me to marry you so they have easy access to the underground. They know there’s no one better equipped to deal with spies and rumors and assassinations than your family. House Blossom’s connections are cut short then if they want to try something.”

  
Jughead nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “And if they did, we would hear about it. My father isn’t the greatest man, no getting around that, but I know he’d never let anyone come after our family. And that includes you now, Elizabeth.”

  
That brought a flush to her cheeks. Anyone else would have been displeased to call the Jones’ their family, but there were many fond memories tied to their little house in the country. They had always been a secretive people, living outside the prying eyes of the world. It had also been an attempt to cleanse his father of his alcohol and gambling addiction, though that had not worked.

  
“How is Forsythia?” it had been too long since she’d heard news from his young sister. “She wrote me before we left but I didn’t get a chance to answer. I know she’s engaged too, and just about as thrilled as you were no doubt?”

  
They fell into an easy conversation then. His sister adored Elizabeth, and never let him hear the end of it. If he was set to visit the North she would kick and scream and beg to go with him. It didn’t make matters any better that the princess loved her just as much.

  
“She said she doesn’t mind him. But what matters most is that I don’t mind him. I think he’s a bit afraid of me and I can’t say I’m particularly bothered by that.”

  
Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. The houses bucked and above them the driver shouted things that were muffled, but sounded frightened. His mouth opened, but whatever words were there were drowned out by an earth-shattering scream.

  
“Polly!” Betty jumped to her feet. That was her sister. Something was wrong with her sister. But Jughead was quicker, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her back onto the coach’s bench.

  
“Don’t move. I’ll go and see what’s happening. I can’t risk you getting hurt, do you understand?”

  
“But-”

  
His grip tightened on her shoulders, blue eyes pleading with her to listen, “I said do you understand, Elizabeth?”

  
Any protest she had died on her tongue. There were no more words. All she could do was nod. Jughead placed a tender kiss to her forehead before exiting the carriage.

  
The sight before him was gruesome. Alice clutched her sobbing eldest daughter close to her chest, rocking her and attempting to soothe the girl’s frightened screams. The crimson sheen of blood coated the gold embroidery of her bodice. His eyes frantically searched the scene, finally landing on the crumpled heap before him.

  
The shockingly red hair, the pale skin. The dead man’s eyes were glassy, staring hollowly upward into the moon, which cast a ghoulish glow on his corpse. A widow’s wails pierced the momentary silence and Jughead’s heart finally remembered to beat at last.

  
“Jason’s dead.”

  
He should have known she would disobey him. Betty’s vice was a curiosity that often times got her into trouble. Jughead spun to face her, arms pulling her tightly to his chest. Her body shook with every cry from her grieving sister. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes as she clutched tightly to his vest.

  
“Don’t look. Just…just don’t look.”

  
But there was no changing what had been done that night. A man with golden eyes had run the Prince through his heart with a blade and single handedly shuffled the power of the North Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find on tumblr! @tory-b


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Chapter update! I've managed to plan out the rest of the chapters, i'm thinking maybe about 10-11 in total. I do have a question though: I have a scene planned that's a little more rated M, and I'm unsure if I want to include it because it would mean having to up the rating to a Mature one and I don't want to exclude people who are already invested in the story. So I was wondering how many of you would like or would not like to have that scene included?
> 
> As always, come find me on tumblr! I'm @tory-b there and I promise I don't bite!

Babies Jason the Second and Rose the First were born to Princess Polly Anne of House Cooper only a month after the unfortunate death of her husband. The Kingdom had been in a near constant state of chaos after the assassination. Forsythe had spent most nights curled up by the fire, hastily scrawling letters at the behest of the Queen and King. Any information his contacts could dig up regarding the murder would be important. Betty was quickly learning that having a fiancé with ties to the underground had its advantages.

There was an ache in her heart though. Not only for her sister, who she knew had lost the love of her life, but for the kingdom who waited with baited breath on the announcements to come. They clambered for news. Would Polly continue on her path to the crown, with no king beside her? Or would the throne be given to her younger sister and a lord from a foreign land. Even in the North there was no shortness of ill will towards House Jones. She had hoped their impending marriage would change the country’s views, but even now she could hear whispers from the maids. They feared a man who was almost too gentle for his own good.

Elizabeth snuck from her chambers. The stone was cold beneath her feet, but the night air helped calm her frazzled nerves. She wanted to see him. Or maybe it was need. Their moment in the carriage had been so tender. He had held her tightly, allowed the agonizing sobs to shake through her small frame. When she refused to eat, he had fed her. When she refused to speak, he crafted the words for her. It was her duty to find a way to repay his kindness.

“And where are you heading Princess?” one of the maids asked as she exited Polly’s room. The plump woman had a knowing look in her eyes.

Betty flushed, trying to avert her eyes. It wasn’t proper to be leaving her chambers dressed in so little, especially to see a man. This isn’t just any man, she rationalized, it was _her_ man. Many details of their wedding had yet to be discussed. The funeral was a much more pressing concern, but she knew from her mother’s whispers that once the nation had properly grieved, the invitations would not be far behind.

“Well I…no, I just simply…” she searched her mind for any excuse, “needed a glass of water. I’ve been terribly parched this evening.”

The maid looked her over, “Oh I’m sure you’ve been ravenously thirsty, Princess. Your water is downstairs by the fire.”

Had the insinuation come from anyone other than her sister’s nurse maid, Betty might have been tempted to have her hauled off to the prison cells below the castle. Regardless, fighting with the servants had not been part of her night’s mission. As much as she loathed giving the woman the satisfaction, she made her way down the steps towards Forsythe.

Upon her approach, she lingered in the doorway. The fire crackled beside him, embers basking his skin in a warm orange glow. Watching him work was mesmerizing. His quill flitted across the parchment, like a bird living black prints in the winter snow. His dark eyebrows knit with concentration, engrossed completely in the task at hand.

After a moment he paused, smile dancing on his pale lips. “Are you going to stand there or will you join me?”

Elizabeth flushed again. She had been caught. There was no use hiding her presence now however, so she made her way to sit beside him on the loveseat. A name like that had always perplexed her. But now, sitting beside this man who haunted her night time visions, she could understand the implications.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” his tone was more playful than scolding.

She smiled in return. “Shouldn’t you?”

The silence that saturated the next few moments was comfortable. It was reminiscent of their youth spent in the libraries of dignitaries. She would read, and he would write beside her. Curiosity often got the best of the princess then, and that had not changed with the passing of many years. Green eyes attempted to study the words dancing across the page: only to discover his had written in an unintelligible code. Cipher had been her least favorite area of study, and without paper of her own there was no hope of understanding it.

“Careful little bird, I hear that if you get too close to a cat they might just eat you up.”

For not the first or second, but third time that evening, Elizabeth could not escape the redness that sprang to her cheeks. His implications were enough to make her heart flutter and her breath unable to steady.

“What if I wanted you to?”

Betty wasn’t the only ones startled by her confession, the quill fumbling out of Forsythe’s hand as his blue eyes widened. Pupils dilated, looking at her with a hungry desire, she felt something stir in the pits of her stomach.

“That’s a dangerous game, Elizabeth. Are you sure it’s one you’re willing to play?”

Their breath mingled together, mouths only inches apart. When she didn’t reply, he pulled back, looking satisfied with himself. Most days she would find the cocky charm he held endearing. Tonight, when she craved for nothing more than a kiss to her lips, it was nearly infuriating.

“What are you writing?” she probed, moving closer to gaze at his handiwork.

“Letters,” he answered vaguely, “But before, poems.”

Jughead always had a gift for words. His literary prowess was nothing short of brilliance. Talent like that was something she often hungered to see in herself. Nothing much looked back at her in the mirror but a forgotten second princess these days.

“What do you think will happen, now that Jason’s dead?” it had been weighing on her mind for a long time: what it meant for her, for the kingdom, and for them.

He paused, sitting back into the cushions to think. Jughead’s eyes never left hers. Betty tried not to shrink under his intense gaze. It was not uncommon him to study her like this, but until now she had never felt so bare before him.

At last, he shook his head. “I’m honestly not sure. I overheard the King and Queen the other night. Your mother thinks Polly isn’t fit to be queen without someone beside her, and I think he agrees. And I doubt your sister even wants to be Queen without Jason by her side. I’ve been trying to uncover the plot, but I fear most of my leads have come up with nothing. Even my father’s having difficulty getting the snakes to speak up.”

“If mother thinks Polly to be any less than perfect, I know she’ll come to us next. It’s logical, and the Kingdom likes me. We…we’ll take my parents thrones. But what if the someone isn’t done,” her voice shook with fear, “What if they aren’t satisfied with just Jason? The whole royal family could be next. Mother. Father. Polly. Us.”

Forsythe reached out with a gentle touch, cupping her cheeks delicately in his hands. His eyes were piercing. “Elizabeth, I promise you that I will never allow anyone to hurt you.”

All the breath escaped her body in a single gasp. He was so close to her now, at last within her grasp. Inch by inch, the distance between them closed. His lips were soft on hers, a butterfly kiss that sealed his promise. It was improper, but she wanted more: a thousand kisses all for her.

“I trust you.”

It could have been ages that passed, with their foreheads pressed together and hearts intertwined. The smile on his lips was contagious. She brought them together again, a chaste peck that made her heart flutter.

Suddenly, a throat cleared, forcing the two lovers to jump apart. She noticed her mother in the doorway, watching them with an uninterested, calm gaze. There was no denying what had just occurred between them, but Elizabeth hoped the scolding would be quick. Perhaps it was improper, but their marriage was impending and no one had been around to witness their intimacy. Well, no one but the Queen that is.

“I trust you two will mind your manners better in the presence of good company,” Alice entered the room with a flourish, standing beside the fireplace. Darkness crept onto the corners of her face, emphasized by the glowing embers. It was a contrast from how that had light painted Elizabeth’s tender betrothed. “Never the less I am glad to have found you together. We have things to discuss. Important ones.”

Forsythe nodded. Something about impressing the Queen seemed silly when she had known him when his fingers were coated in cherries he’d snuck from the baker’s pies, but he felt the desire to regardless.

“Have you heard back from your father?” she questioned.

“I have. We don’t have answers yet, but I assure you that I won’t rest until this matter comes to light.”

The Queen smiled, something that rarely ever reached her eyes. “I trust you will. But the matter I wished to discussed is not that. As you know, Polly is filling unwell since the death of her husband, and the babies only complicate matters more. When I went to visit her the evening she signed away the rights to the throne. It was a decision we came up with together. It is what’s best for her, the children, and the nation. She can’t possibly rule without a king and the thought of remarrying has her shaken.”

“Then the crown falls to us,” Betty spoke the words, confirming the reality of her nightmare. “When are we to accept?”

Forsythe seemed surprised by her compliance, but did not move to question it in front of her mother. Alice gently kissed her daughter’s head. “A week’s time. We want to allow the kingdom to grieve properly. Your coronation will take place the day after your wedding, which I intend to have before the year is up. This is a high honor Elizabeth, but I have no doubts you will be the perfect Queen, as you were the perfect princess.”

The word made her sick. Years of standards forced to meet, scolded when her marks did not sit as high as they should, had left the word with a bitter connotation. But for her mother, the Princess smiled brightly.

“Of course. It is a gift I, as well as Forsythe, am honored to accept.”

Jughead was not so sure how honored he felt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy chapter 5! There's probably at most 3-4 more chapters left of this! (depending on if you guys want the epilogue I have planned or not).

Jughead Jones was not good at kingly duties: that was something he was learning rather quickly. The Queen had announced that it was time to begin his and Elizabeth’s training as future rulers of the land. Betty had taken to it like a fish to water. He was floundering.

He could dance around the ballroom like he was born in it. He held enough knowledge regarding politics in his head to fill hundreds of books. But when it came to biting his tongue and acting like a well-respected man during important negotiations, often times his humor was too quick to hold back. Their tutor, a middle-aged man with a lazy eye, had beaten him over the head multiple times due to his quiet retorts while his delicate fiancée, always so in tune with her diplomacy, perfected her talents.

Forsythe had decided it was best to sit outside and regain some of his dignity. There was only so many well-placed insults he could take before he started to feel offended. It was days like these that he cursed his childhood with Elizabeth. She always knew exactly where to find him.

Currently, she stood under his tree: eyebrow raised, arms crossed, and looking both mortified and amused. It was an expression she had spent nearly her entire life giving him, and it brought an ache of nostalgia into his heart.

“May I help you Princess?” He called down, a smile on his lips.

“Yes, you may, Lord Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third,” his name was emphasized like a dagger straight to his soul. “You see I have a dancing class with my fiancé this morning and I can’t see him through the childish games he’s playing.”

“Childish perhaps, but I believe children have the right idea sometimes. When the world seems to be spiraling out of control: a new perspective always helps.”

Betty laughed, “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

It took a few hours and the promise of dinner for Jughead to finally admit he may have gotten his pants caught in the branches of the tall maple tree. Three guards had to aid him in his clumsy descent and the princess was unable to keep her prim and proper expression up to her mother’s expectations as she watched the man she was about to marry shake leaves from out of his inky locks.

“I would prefer if you didn’t laugh. Or mention this to anyone. Let alone Archie.”

“Oh Forsythe,” Elizabeth kissed his cheek sweetly, “It’s much too late for that. I already began composing the letter in my head. Dear Archibald, our friend found himself caught in a tree. _Again._ Whatever are we going to do to him? I suppose I’ll have to arrange my honeymoon for a barren wasteland. Is your winter cabin still available?”

He tried, and failed miserably, to keep the corners of his lips from turning up in a smile. “This is no laughing matter. One day a tree is going to claim my life and then who will we have to blame?”

“You, my love.”

Jughead scoffed, “Details!”

As they began their lazy walk back to the castle, Betty found herself curled closely to his side. They had not spoken much about this kiss her mother had interrupted, but the air around them had shifted for the better. Their marriage was impending. If love fostered then it was all for the best. She had never looked too hard at him before, but now each moment was seen through new lenses.

In the evening sun, she could see the way his blue eyes reflected light. With every breath she took, Betty sank further and further into the deep ocean of his gaze. He had grown so much. Taller, wider, but with the same wirily sense of self preservation and sardonic humor. She had every freckle on his face memorized.

“Once our tutoring has finished we’ll be married,” she said quietly, looking down to avoid meeting his eyes. Just in a few short months she had come to terms with a life she had never expected to have. A husband who was not Archie, and a throne that would soon be hers. “And then the coronation.”

They hadn’t spoken much about that either. With lessons and her mother running around them in circles with plans, moments along had been few and far between.

He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze with his own, “You’ll be an amazing queen Elizabeth. And I’ll sit beside you and try to remember how to bite my tongue while you nag an entire kingdom into submission.”

His tone was endearing and she couldn’t even fake a frown. Despite the turbulent waters they were in, being beside him always restored her calm. If she was to be the ruling matriarch with an iron fist, he would be beside her with a smile and a gentle reminder that she was the strongest woman he had ever met.

“Juggie,” she paused along the path and pulled her hand from his. Perplexed, he stopped and looked towards her. “I…I’m glad I am marrying you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. I feel safe when you’re around. I know you’ll always be by my side, aiding me however you can. There’s no one I think would be a better King to me.”

Forsythe smiled and took a step closer. The birds chirped around them, the flowers in full bloom: it was a romantic moment certainly. Her hands were in his again. Inch by inch he leaned down until their lips met in a chaste kiss. But the princess wanted more than that.

She leaned into the kiss, mouth opening in invitation. He took it gladly and the two young lovers began their first steps into exploration. Betty tasted like her favorite peppermint tea and Jughead’s hands were calloused as they slowly cupped her chin. He guided her up to give him better access.

Breathless, they pulled away at last. Smiles were exchanged and a small giggle escaped her lips. They were slightly red from his rough kisses, a fact that made his heart swell with animalistic pride. When he reached down to claim them again, a dove swooped down to interrupt.

The white bird landed on the bush beside them. A small letter was tied to one claw, a familiar green ink seal holding it together. He reached out and was allowed access to the string, pulling it from the dove quickly.

“Who is that from?” the princess asked, moving closer to her betrothed with wide eyes. Was this a letter from one of his contacts, finally supplying them with information the satiate her worried mind?

“One of my family’s contacts in the underground,” he answered with as much clarity as he could.

The snake, embedded in the wax, had told him the answer. There was danger in signing names, especially when the information was as sensitive as this. He unfurled the parchment and began to read.

_Dear Serpent Prince,_

_The King says you’ve been asking questions regarding the unfortunate passing of Lord Jason Blossom. If it were to get out that I had written you at all, my head would be gone and my entire family silenced. So, I beg that you keep what I tell you close to heart._

_The Serpents of the underground were hired to kill him. The man was one of our own. I do not know who paid for the assassination, or what hands exchanged favors. I overheard talk of the plot one night from a few of the lower grunts in the network. They had bragged about the blood of a future king on their hands. When the news of Blossom’s death finally reached my lands, I knew the two must be connected._

_What politics the royals are playing at goes far above you or me, Prince. If you insist on continuing your investigation, keep your words silent and your mind sharp. You can’t trust even those closest to your family within the Serpents. Should you need my assistance again, the bird will know where to find me._

_-T_

With the letter finished, neither of them spoke. The silence hung uncomfortably in the air. The tension between them still left her breathless, but now her heart ached. The assassination of her future brother in law was much bigger than they had anticipated. They had unearthed something deep and wicked in their Kingdom.

The tears fell before she could stop them. Elizabeth’s body shook as the fear slowly engulfed her. Jughead’s arms were soft around her as he murmured soothing words. But the fear was intense. Her fiancé’s people had been behind Jason’s assassination, and it shook them both to the core. He seemed just as stunned as she was, clutching the letter so tightly the parchment crinkled in his grasp.

“I’m sorry,” he said more times than she could count. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…no this is not your fault,” once the air had returned to her lungs, it was the first thing out of her mouth. “It’s someone else. Someone wicked with plans I can’t fully comprehend yet. But we will figure it out. Together.”

Jughead shook his head, tightening his hold on her. “I can’t allow you to do that. It’s far too dangerous. If they find out you’ve been helping me it could mean trouble for you.”

“It’s already trouble for me! Don’t you understand? Someone killed Jason, and who knows if they’re willing to stop there? It could be you next, or me, or Polly. We’re going to be King and Queen one day soon, and that means we work out solutions together. Consider this our first task and rulers.”

“I certainly hope every day running your Kingdom won’t involve a complex assassination plot,” this finally brought a breath for levity to their conversation.

Betty took a shaky breath and pulled herself from his arms. She was Princess Elizabeth of House Cooper, soon to be Queen of the North. No one was going to frighten her away from truth or justice. And with her king beside her, she could do anything.

“You have to promise me that we won’t rest until we uncover this?”

“And you, my dear, have to understand how messy this will get. To work the underground, I am going to have to do things that seem unthinkable. There will be no turning back once we begin.”

Nails dug deep into her palms, steeling the young girl into an iron maiden. At last, Betty nodded. “Do what you must.”

Forsythe bowed deeply, “You have my word that whatever murderer is in our midst will be brought to justice before you. For you, my Queen, I would do anything.”

In that moment, she finally understood what it meant to lie in bed with a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, follow me on tumblr @tory-b


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